FEBRUARY 12, 1976

tw: mentions of death.

"I'M FINE, THANK YOU." said Kathleen, giving her cauldron a harsh scrub. The pasty scrapings of her Wideye Potion lingered at the bottom, but Kathleen put her cauldron back in its shelf anyways. She was too tired to clean it, and besides, Slughorn had been nice enough to not assign her a partner for the Potion.

"Very well, Miss Prewett," Slughorn said awkwardly, patting her on the back before moving on. "Severus, m'boy, wonderful job today."

Of course Snape did a good job, he'd just come off an internship with Damocles Belby that started weeks before Yule, the most coveted internship spot that Slughorn offered. He was even in their Potions class, even though he was a sixth year, to assist the Professor and set up for each session. Not that he did much assisting; he'd either been away with Belby or sneering at their work every time he came in.

Kathleen recieved several pitying glances on her way back to Gryffindor Tower. A few second years whispered about her behind cupped hands and lowered lashes. She stuck out her chin and walked on by. 

Even the portraits were silent as she passed by, recalling how she always came in a matching set. Persephone Finch and Kathleen Prewett. Posey and Kitty. Her parents' owl had came every morning since the incident, which was now two weeks ago. Theseus was probably getting tired with all the back and forth, from Wales no less.

"So I said, no one's going to give us any attention until all of this with Persephone blows over-"

Kathleen stood at the edge of the door to her room, one hand on the knob, watching as Flora Blishwick paused mid-argument with Miksa Halasz. Her hands were still thrown up in the air, gold and silver rings studded on her fingers. The two girls, who Kathleen had been roommates with since first year, gaped at her awkwardly at being caught. 

Kathleen cleared her throat awkwardly, before moving to her bed, next to Posey's empty one, with a stiff upper lip and a face of stone. She drew the curtains around her canopy with a loud rustle, and rolled over under the covers, not even bothering to take her clothes off other than her shoes. She heard the other two fifth year Gryffindors' shoes scuffle out; at least they had the decency to do so. Once the door swung shut, Kathleen opened a small crack out of the fabric curtains, giving Posey's bed a long, long look.

Last weekend, Mister and Missus Finch came to Hogwarts. They had a meeting with Dumbledore, and then greeted Kathleen with teary eyes and runny noses. They took all of Posey's things with them, and now her bed was stripped, with only the basic white sheets, black curtains and one pillow, as if it was move-in day instead. Posey had charmed the sheets and the curtains a pretty blue-green, and she had enough pillows to fill a whole house. It looked horrible, bare and washed out like how it was now.

As she pulled the curtain shut again, parchment crunched under her robe sleeve. With an impatient sigh, she remembered how she'd shoved it there right after breakfast, and unfurled the crumbled ball. 

Kitty,

We will send you some chocolates. Your Aunt Lucretia and Uncle Ignatius went to France, and now we have too many. How are your classes? Are any teachers giving you a hard time?

We met with Professor McGonagall again. She cares deeply about all her students, you know, but she mentioned your lack of progress. Take as much time as you need, cariad, but keep a strong head, alright?

We love you,

Mam a Thad, Fab, Gid, and Molly.

Now Kathleen had to write a response. She thumbed over the first word. Aside from her family, only Posey ever called her that. A scuffle came from below, and Kathleen paused. There wasn't anyone else in the room, was there? She ignored it, before several little thumps followed it.

Why did everyone want to disturb her peace? She fully threw open her curtains, flopping over her bed to dangle her torso upside-down to the ground.

The area under Kathleen's bed she called no man's land. Giant balls of dust would collect there daily if it weren't for the house elves. She kept her trunks there, empty and simply waiting for when they would be filled again for the Easter holidays, in April and only eight days long. She had a few old Christmas gifts down there, and much of her summer wardrobe. Old textbooks lay years unopened, notebooks with parchment so frayed and matted they were unusable. Half-quills, Chocolate Frog wrappers, her childhood broom...And a white rabbit with red eyes.

Kathleen bit her tongue. She hoisted the rabbit into her arms, holding him midair to inspect. "For Merlin's sake, Thumper. Why didn't Missus Finch take you?"

The rabbit blinked red at her, its little mouth nibbling on the edge of a Bertie Botts' box. Kathleen sighed, snatching it out of the buck's tiny jaws. But as she wondered, she remembered that both of Posey's parents were allergic to animal fur, and since they were Muggles, they couldn't suppress it. Posey had found Thumper first year, and Miksa Halasz had always been disgusted by the fallen fur. But Posey had loved the sweet rabbit more than any.

"I suppose I'll take care of you now," Kathleen wanted the words to come out like a grumble, but it came out soft instead. 

She gently set the rabbit on her lap. Aside from the one incident over Yule on the train platform, Thumper was widely known throughout Gryffindor Tower for being the most loving dorm pet, staying indoors and cuddling with different students by the fire. Even Kathleen knew the rabbit would be tame from the moment Posey held him up, fur matted, mud smeared and eyes glowing scarlet. Thumper whimpered, as if remembering his former mistress, sniffling around the mess of fabric collected in Kathleen's lap. She gave him a few scratches around his face, and he gave a quick lick to one of her fingers. Smiling softly, she stroked down his back, a few stray white hairs collecting between her hands. He really was cute.

"A Dreadful, Miss Prewett," McGonagall peered through the lenses of her spectacles down at Kathleen. "See me after class."

Kathleen made sure to turn away before rolling her eyes. Studying had always been a chore, but before it had been supplemented with an Acceptable or Exceeds Expectations. Now there wasn't any of those, but Kathleen didn't really feel the need to see one. The more she thought about it, the more clenched her throat grew, a hot lump of swell rising to her chest, and her eyes began to prickle.

She shoved her essay into her bag. It came last Tuesday, the newest model of the leather satchels most pureblood daughters employed. But it was the note from Molly that made it special; ever since she married Arthur she'd been living on tight money, and hadn't ever accepted a Knut from their parents. Kathleen thought that was strange, but she'd been in the way of Molly's opinions before, and things never went well. She'd written Molly six inches of parchment, knowing how much the bag would have been out of her budget.

The essay disappeared seamlessly into the bag's extendable pockets, and even Kathleen, with her deep set blue circles, frizzy ginger hair and overall generally frazzled demeanor, could appreciate the charm's ingenuity.

The students filed out one by one as was custom. When Kathleen turned around to walk up to the Professor, annoyance huffing in her mind, she was surprised to see the tall, stick-like figure of a boy already muttering to McGonagall. She walked in from behind, careful to drag her feet so they knew she was coming.

"Miss Prewett," McGonagall nodded to her crisply. "Good. Now that we are all here, both of you will be completing a detention with me six days from now."

"...What? Why?" Kathleen asked, shooting side glances to the person beside her.

"Because both of you have failed to submit your homework assignments for two classes in a row with no valid excuse," she said, crossing her arms, big round eyes staring at the two of them. 

"-Are you joking?" Kathleen blurted out, as the bitten-down frustration surged in her like a wave. "Two classes? That's only today and yesterday!"

"Do not take that tone with me, Miss Prewett. You have been extremely punctual in your homework assignments in the past four years, so you have not noticed that my detention policy has never changed."

"-But four days from now is Saturday, that's Hogsmeade weekend!"

"-Perhaps staying in the castle will do you some good."

"But Professor!" Kathleen said, her tone pitched into a pathetic whine that she hated. She didn't even know why she was so upset over the detention. Probably because it was her first-ever detention in four years.

Reg didn't know why she was pissy over a single detention.

Her eyes, like faint emerald chips in the classroom light, were pleading in a child-like beg. Why did it have to be her? said the little voice inside his head, in an ache. He quashed it down, not even needing to play his part in order to be annoyed at Prewett's antics.

"That is fine, where should we report?" Kathleen whirled around to see Black, calm and composed, asking McGonagall politely, with a straight back and arms folded. Frustratingly, her anger deflated a puff looking at his face.

McGonagall gave him a hint of a smile. "The spare classroom on the right-hand wing of the fourth floor. At three, you will be removing the dust from the chalkboard erasers without magic."

"-Without magic-"

"-Very well, thank you, Professor," and Black had the audacity to grab her arm, and walk them both out of the Transfiguration classroom, Kathleen's feet stumbling as she tried to keep up with his longer legs.

They stepped through the door just as Kathleen wrenched her arm out of his grip. Her deep red hair was shucked over a shoulder, a few razor-straight strands coming undone from her half-up. She bared her teeth at the wizard, ready to curse him straight to Annwn.

"-Did you want her to give us another detention?" Black hissed at her, and that shut her up.

"...How are you so calm about this? Aren't you supposed to be the smartest one in our year? Why aren't you worried? And why haven't you done your homework?" She turned on him, eyes narrowed in misplaced anger.

"None of your business," he sniffed.

"Well, fine, you little pendefig. You don't need to tell me," Kathleen said, retreating a bit, an odd doubt clouding her face.

"What did you just call me?"

"Never you mind," Kathleen said, puffing out a breath of exhaustion. She meant to go to Hogsmeade to send letters to her family, since she had no owl of her own and Theseus was currently being used for correspondence between her parents and Molly. She could go to the Owlery, but the owls in Hogsmeade were trained better and could fly south to Wales much faster. Whatever. No matter what, she had to go to detention.

"You've got problems, Prewett," Black snorted, and Kathleen opened her mouth in outrage, but it was too late as he stalked away. 

Kathleen's bedcurtains were still pulled shut when the other two inhabitants of her room tumbled in. 

"-You played so well today. Come on, stay for the night?" Flora Blishwick's high voice crooned straight into Kathleen's ears. She turned and flumped down, burying her face into her silk pillows.

"Please? We won't bite," Miksa said battingly. 

Kathleen fought the urge to scream, as she stepped straight to the edge of the bed, flinging her curtains open.

She recognized Spencer Ward, a fourth-year Muggleborn in Hufflepuff, standing like a twig in the wind as Miksa and Flora, each holding one of his hands, pleaded for him to stay in their dorm room and do...Kathleen didn't even know what, with them. Spencer, who was still in his Quidditch uniform (he was a Chaser), looked rather frazzled and as if he'd rather be anywhere else at the moment.

Kathleen cleared her throat. "Boys aren't allowed in here. How did you get him past the stairs?"

Flora jut out her sharp little chin at her, her bob swishing. "Keep your nose in your own area, Prewett."

Kathleen scoffed, turning to the boy. "Run along, Spencer," and, as if that was his cue, the younger boy took off, scampering and leaving his Chaser gloves behind on the ground in haste.

"Urgh, Prewett! Why'd you have to ruin the fun?" Miksa complained, throwing her tattooed hands up at Kathleen. The duo had obviously just returned from the game, which had resulted in a Slytherin win over Hufflepuff. Miksa still had her face painted with a yellow and black badger on both cheeks.

"He obviously didn't want to be here!"

"-And how would you know? You've never had a boy go near the stairs for you," Flora sneered, and the indignance was getting a little too overwhelming for Kathleen. It had been a while since she'd felt so offended.

"Why are you acting like a bitch?"

"Why are you? You've been moping for two weeks in here, making everyone else walk on eggshells around you. You're so miserable that the one time we want to live normally you shut us down!" Flora snapped, starting to yell from across the room, her mussed robes rustling.

"I'm going to hex you-"

"-Okay! Everyone calm down. We're leaving now," Miksa interrupted, before Kathleen drew her wand. The other girl started fiercely nudging Flora to the door, not even bothering to remove her face paint. 

"-Don't bring another boy back!" 

"We won't," Flora called haughtily, her eyes ablaze with anger as she shot Kathleen one last look. "We're going to the Slytherin party now, I bet it's not your 'scene'. Stop your damn moping, Prewett, and get a grip."

"Furnunculus!" But the door swung shut before the purple-colored charm hit the two girls, bouncing off the wood in a shower of sparks.

Kathleen breathed heavily, her chest pounding and her blood rushing in her ears. How dare she. How dare she? She let out a long, never-ending shriek of frustration, anger, and earth-shattering annoyance. Damned Blishwick. And now she had a dead best friend, her first detention, and two roommates that officially hated her. There was nothing that could make it worse.

She collapsed onto her knees, holding her face into her hands. Persephone, Posey, her sweet sister Posey. She was gone, and there was no one Kathleen could scream, laugh, nor cry to. What kind of a messed-up world was she in now? How could anyone kill someone like Posey, someone so kind, lovely, the most gentle girl at school? Even fucking Flora Blishwick somehow liked Posey. 

But there was no sadness. All of her grief had evaporated days ago, leaving her parched and thirsty for emotion. And in its place, her heavens opened up and let in a great deluge of anger to rival Genesis, as waves of the hot, stormy feeling crashed through every crevice, every vein and every limb of her broken body. It tied knots in her stomach, ran its own fingers through her fingers, and every instinct in her mind screamed to destroy.

Kathleen didn't cry. She cried at night, when the moon was nigh in the sky, and her soul was free to wrench itself apart. But the sun shone upon her as she crouched over her blankets, illuminating the scarlet of the room, her sheets, her hair. All she saw was red. And slowly, the red seeped into her, inch by inch, as the deep desire for pride, revenge, and sanity flowed in. 

At once, she stormed to her trunk, scrambling for the dress at the bottom. Tight, lacy, green. She was going to that fucking Slytherin party. She had nothing to lose.